Home, Sweet Home
by themodernteen
Summary: Logan and Scott wake up in a dark cell in the worst of places: Stryker's secret facility. Both Scott and Logan find their mutations tampered with as Stryker's new mutant experimental drug leaves them as test subjects. He plans to use the two X-Men as tests for the new drug that could eliminate mutant kind, and it's up to them to escape with their wits and no powers to save them.
1. Chapter 1

_New story, don't own any X-Men characters or story, just here to write a fic about it! Enjoy!_

"Get in there!"

Logan felt the rough hands grappling his back throw him into a dark, dank cell. His palms stung as they skidded across the rusty floor, glass shards pricking his skin. He growled deeply. It built up in his throat and released a horrid snarl that radiated pure hatred. Logan didn't take to being pushed around, and right now these idiots were close to getting their heads ripped off.

Logan felt his claws trying to push through his scratched skin, but he winced in pain as the urge was forcefully suppressed.

A heavy boot collided with his stomach. It didn't hurt too bad, but the fact that these guards were really pushing their luck ticked him off.

"I really wouldn't do that if I were you," Logan's throaty warning held no sympathy, "if you want to keep that foot."

He felt the room tense, the guards reaching for their guns and batons. Logan smiled.

"Shut up, freak," the guard snarled, "get back in your cell."

Logan reached with grubby fingers and pulled himself along, his exhausted limbs ready to rest.

"Don't talk like that," another guard whispered to his partner in warning, trying to lower his voice in caution as he glanced at Logan in fear, "you know what he can do..."

"Trust me," the kicking guard snorted, "the guy is spent. He couldn't get his claws to show even if he tried."

Logan snarled, his temper flaring some more as he reached for the wall for support.

"Come on, _Wolverine,_ show us those claws. Come on, pull them out," the guard mocked, both waiting to see Logan's response.

He willed for his adamantium claws to unsheathe so he could rip these guys' heads off with one stroke; however, as he tried to push for his mutation to activate, that horrifyingly familiar burning sensation spread across his arms and straight to his chest.

Logan growled in pain and bent over as the laughter of the guard above him made him scowl.

"Told you," the guard smiled evilly, "come on, let's go before the Colonel comes back."

 _The Colonel._

He heard the heavy steel door shut with a groaning creak, the scratchy noise almost making his ears bleed. His head was pounding, the blood pumping into his skull like an overheated steam engine. His heart rate was erratic, and his arms and legs were shaking. Those damn guards, they had no idea what they were apart of.

Logan was with his team when they walked straight into an ambush. Oblivious to the trap laid out for them, the mutant team was met with the worst military scientist in the country: William Stryker.

He had been chasing mutants, Wolverine in particular, for years and Stryker always had elaborate schemes that claimed the lives of good men. Now Logan had endangered the entire X-Men team. He was the one who pushed for the infiltration of a covert government organization suspected of experimenting on innocent mutants. They were right to a certain degree. Mutants were being experimented on, they just didn't realize they were going to be the next test subjects.

Painful memories resurfaced in his amnesia stricken mind. He growled and shook his head, scrunching his eyes as memories unfolded in his head and he felt the pain, anguish, rage, and misery he experienced when Stryker had him in his clutches and made him a weapon. Logan was forced to do some many things, so many horrible deeds that unleashed his animal inside. No more. He would never live by those days again, he couldn't let Stryker get to him.

He had to get out of here. He was the Wolverine, he could do anything he goddamn wanted.

Logan trudged to the steel door, squaring it up. His adamantium claws could scratch right through this thing like a knife in warm butter. If he believed in it, they damn well could.

With a good stride, Logan ran to the door, fists out and his mind urging for his mutation to emerge.

He hit the door hard, his nose cracked against the steel and he fell back holding his face. Logan growled as he crashed to the floor, looking up in confusion and defeat as he stared down at his hands. He could see the claws rippling under the skin of his hands, but they wouldn't unsheathe. His power had abandoned him.

"What's happening to me?" Logan mumbled to himself in confusion. He felt his eyebrows knit together in concentration, slight concern, and overwhelming anger at the resistance of his mutation. He had depended on his claws his whole life for protection. How could this be happening?

Logan heard a shuffle outside the steel door. It sounded like multiple men shouting, slowly approaching his cavernous cell. He would jump them, surprise attack, and bust out of this place quickly. He hid on the peripheral side of the steel doorway, waiting as he heard the shuffle outside.

There was a series of three sharp bangs against the metal door. Logan was puzzled, but a rough voice echoed back.

"You in there! Stand back!"

Stand back? What the hell did that mean? Were they jumping him? Were they gonna kill him? If they were, they wouldn't give him a warning, because he'd punch them till their teeth knocked out.

"Let them try it," he growled in violent satisfaction.

The door burst open and Logan lay like a tiger ready to pounce. But it wasn't armored men with guns blazing rushing inside, but a lone figure shoved in similar to how he was treated. The figure landed on the floor hard, the man's kneecaps slamming against the concrete as he struggled to gain his balance.

Logan remained in his hiding spot, prepared to throw some punches if anything else walked on in. For a few moments, he waited. The man lifted a trembling leg to a crouching position, his arms were confined in a straightjacket. He was unable to lift or move his upper body with the restraining clothing restricting his movements. Logan looked closer, his eyes narrowing in realization. The man's dark black hair, slightly curled, his thin form, but broad shoulders, his bowed head from the light…it was like his eyes were not adjusted to the normal perceptions of people.

"Oh my god," Logan mumbled to himself, puzzled, "Cyclops."

"Who's there?!" Scott turned around wildly, still trying to find his footing. His eyes were tightly shut, his sunglasses missing, "Answer me, who's there?!"

Logan stood silent a while, circling his team mate, looking him up and down. Scott's straightjacket robbed him of the sense of touch as his sight was already missing. All the guy had was taste, smell, and sound. Scott still searched for Logan, unaware it was his team member in the cell with him.

"Scott," Logan grumbled, "it's me."

Immediately, his shoulders relaxed, but his facial expression was still tense. The effort he was putting in to keep his eyes shut was probably overwhelming, but he was adamant upon keeping them closed.

"Logan?" Scott's tone lifted, "You're here too?"

"Don't get too excited, we're trapped," he came closer to his fellow X-Man.

"What happened, Logan? How'd you get here?" Scott tried searching for the location of his voice.

"Escape first, questions later," Logan said resolutely, "come on, open your eyes, bust us out of here."

Scott paled a little, "I can't."

"What do you mean you can't," Logan's temper rose, "Of course you can, now go ahead."

"I can't, Logan."

"Well, why not?!" he snarled back in response.

"I don't know!" Scott's own voice rose as his head bowed, "I think it was Stryker. He-he did something, but I haven't opened them yet, I-I can't chance it."

Logan sighed, already empathizing with Cyclops' plight.

"Alright, what do they have you wearing?" Logan stepped back and admired the fashion statement. Straightjacket, a grey prisoner's outfit, and a pair of old dirty sneakers to match.

"This _thing_ ," Scott snarled slightly as he tried to wiggle his arms from the restraining straightjacket pinning him down, "they stuck me in it. Makes me even more blind, takes away my other sense that can still help me even without my powers: touch."

"What's it made out of?" Logan squinted at the slightly fluorescent material, "it ain't cloth."

"No, it's reinforced aluminum alloy," Scott shook around some more, "I can't get it off. I need your help."

"My help?" He never thought he would ever hear those words from Cyclops' mouth.

"Your claws," Scott nodded, "adamantium can rip through anything, right? Tear it off, but...don't get me."

"I don't know, Scott-"

"Logan, please," the plead and his miserable look made something shift in his chest. Scott was dirty, confused, without sight, without touch, and was reliant on his team mate to get him out.

But Logan couldn't.

"I can't either, Scott," the Wolverine shook his head, "whatever Stryker did to you, he did to me too."

"You mean your mutation doesn't work?" he responded in a small voice, "your claws won't come out?"

Logan didn't answer, but Scott could already understand.

"Logan, without your claws, how can we get out of here?" he said grimly, voice shaking.

"I don't know, Scott," he snapped, "it's not just my claws, but your sight. Your lasers might do us some real good right now, buddy, so why don't you open them up and find out, huh?"

"I can't," Cyclops shook his head adamantly.

" _Yes_ , you can," Logan took an advancing step forward.

"No, you don't understand," Scott growled, "Stryker might've given you a suppressant for _your_ mutation, but I think he gave a _stimulant_ for mine."

"What?" Logan shouted, "What the hell is that supposed to mean? He made you stronger?"

"Essentially, yes, but it's not just stronger i-it's unstable," Scott explained, "Logan, if I unleash my mutation, I could burn through the next three adjacent cities surrounding this one with just a _squint_. The result would be devastating."

"Look, you're Cyclops for a reason, all right? Fry this hellhole to the ground, so we can get out of here," Logan urged, "The Professor, Storm, Rogue, Jean," he paused a little at that name, "they're all counting on us. We got to tell them what Stryker is up to, you got to do it."

"People will die, Logan," Scott stepped back, "when I first developed this power," he hesitated before continuing, "I didn't know what the hell was wrong with me. I couldn't exactly control it after I hit my head from the plane crash," he shook his head, wanting to block the painful memories, "The Professor was my only hope, but he isn't here now. I don't know what this is, what I can do-I can't chance it, I won't."

"Scott," Logan was breathing heavily to keep his calm, "if you don't get us out of here, you have no idea what Stryker will do to us. I do. And it ain't pretty."

"I know it messed you up pretty bad, Logan," Scott's frustration peaked through his tone, "I get it-"

 _"_ _Get it?_ You don't get anything that's happened to me! You have no idea what I've been through, no idea what's coming, but I do," the Wolverine snarled, "and I'm not staying here to relive it all again!"

Logan charged the door one more time, urging his claws out with all his might. He felt his head pounding with blood, every muscle in his body working to unleash his mutation. He looked down at his knuckles, he saw the adamantium tips just barely peeking through his scarred flesh, but they wouldn't unsheathe any further. They were dull edges, no more length or sharpness to them. Blood was pouring out from between his fingers as the metal razor edges were cutting against the inside of his knuckles trying to unleash.

He roared, holding his trembling hands as his energy drained and his claws remained retracted, "It won't work! Damn it!"

"Shh," Scott held up a hand, trying to contain the Wolverine's rage, "People are approaching."

"What?" Logan's fury was still raging wildly, "Let them come at me, see what good it'll do them!"

"No," Scott's face paled slightly, his scrunched eyes tighter in concentration, "they have weapons with them, stun guns."

"How do you know?"

"With my sight restricted, my mutation filters through slightly to my other senses," Cyclops said in a hushed tone, "Logan, this isn't good, I hear the guns charging."

He looked around for a place to escape, any nook or cranny decent for them to flee through. There was nothing. The walls were concrete, and concrete columns held them together. It was impossible to go through with both of them incapacitated.

From the outside, the sound of men yelling was clearly audible. Logan braced himself, in a fighting stance, fists clenched. Scott was on the far wall, ready to fight if he had to beside his mutant brother.

There was a heavy knocking on the door, a fist banging against it like a gong. It easily sounded like there were 10 men out there. Scott and Logan would definitely have a brawl before them.

"Scott, open your eyes," Logan said definitively as the cell door quivered with the reverberating knocks.

"Logan, I-"

"He can't."

A frightening voice finished the sentence. Wolverine felt chills spread down his spine as he would instantly recognize that murderous tone anywhere. It was the voice of a man who brought pain, destruction, and rage everywhere he went.

"Stryker," his voice was a ghostly whisper.

The cell door slid open fully and behind the Colonel was a team of 10 men. They were all armed head to toe, thick suits on them, advanced gear to protect them. Scott and Logan just had the clothes on their backs and their wits as reinforcements.

"He can't, Logan," Stryker repeated, fully stepping inside the cell. He was wearing a crisp uniform, a sickly sweet smile plastered all over his face. He enjoyed this because he sensed the fear and anticipation radiating off of both mutants, "long time no see, old friend."

"I'm not your friend," Wolverine snarled, "don't _ever_ think that."

"Touché," he cooed sadistically, "no matter. It's good to have you home again."

Scott didn't need his ruby quartz lenses to see that Logan flinched at the mention of his "home."

"Stryker," Logan advanced forward, the men behind Stryker took one as well, "what do you want? Why are you doing this?"

"Wolverine," the Colonel glanced down at Logan's bleeding fists, "aren't able to take the claws out to play, can we?"

"Answer me!" he growled back.

"I see the suppressant is working just fine then," he winked at him and continued, "You see, my philosophy encompasses that anything can be tamed. Wouldn't you agree, Logan?"

He growled so deep that it sounded like a raging pitbull ready to attack.

"But, I'm not here for you," Stryker's neck craned in the opposite direction, as his greedy eyes rested upon Scott in the corner, eyes still tightly sealed.

His heart dropped. Stryker wasn't here for him, he was here to take Scott away and experiment on him with whatever sick test he could think of.

"Logan," his blind friend tried turning his head side to side, backing up against the wall, "what's happening, what's he doing? What does he want?"

He began to run forward, to protect his teammate when a forked prong dug into his skin inches deep. Wolverine roared as volts of electricity coursed through him, electrocuting his muscles and frying his central nervous system commands; two men stood behind him, both of their stun gun projectiles sticking out of his skin.

He crashed to the floor, sinking to his knees, frozen in his vulnerable, useless position. His blurry vision was able to rest upon Scott who was backing up against the wall. Three men jumped him, one of them sneaking up from behind and roughly wrapping a towel over his eyes. Another wrenched his hands behind his back and rammed his knee into his spine, pushing him on his stomach to the floor. Scott struggled and tried to break free, kicking out with his feet and wrenching an arm loose. His fist slammed into the jaw of one of the guys, but from behind, the towel guy held up his baton and whacked Cyclops across the head.

Wolverine trembled as the electric shock coursed through him. He felt anger bubbling in his chest but was unable to voice it as he was frozen on the floor. Scott was on the floor again, a knee pressing on his back, the towel over his eyes, and a man with a syringe who poured the contents right between his shoulder blades.

Logan's trembling vision watched as he saw Scott's movements become more sluggish, the medication taking its toll. His friend's head slowly sank to the dirty concrete floor as his resistance came to a growing stop. The men pinning him down slowly let up, the towel falling from his eyes, the knee lifting from his back, and the hands released from his wrist. A gurney was pushed into the room, and the men lifted Scott on it. They fastened leather black straps around his body and fitted an eye mask over him as well.

Wolverine tried to move, a grunt the only sound he could make. The prongs were still buried deep into his skin, his adamantium conducting great electric volts that relentlessly coursed through his immobile body. Stryker huffed with satisfaction and walked right to his seizing body. He could see the steel-toed boot in his bleary vision, but he'd recognize that viper voice anywhere.

"Stay down, Wolverine," Stryker snorted, "your turn will come soon enough."

The prongs retracted, and Logan felt himself go dark.


	2. Chapter 2

Logan didn't realize how long had passed until he gasped awake once more. He was somehow back in his cell cot, the uncomfortable makeshift mattress underneath him sinking from his adamantium weight. Last thing he remembered, he was sprawled on the floor with Stryker's goons poking and prodding him like a show horse. How did he end up in his bed? Oh, great, someone must've come put him there. He growled at the thought of Colonel Stryker's stooges touching and moving him, and he added that to his list of payback.

A low groan echoed through the dank cell. Wolverine froze, unaware that he had company in the dim light of his enclosure.

"Scott?" he whispered roughly, trying to discern his surroundings, "Scott, you there?"

"Oh, God," he heard an aching moan, "Logan, is that you?"

"Oh, jeez, Scott," Wolverine stood up shakily and sunk back down. His head spun and his limbs were still tingling with electric charge, "when did you get here?"

"Damn it, Logan, I don't know," slowly his eyes were adjusting to the light, and Logan could see another cot across the room fuzzily. Scott was lying in it, body strapped down and eyes bandaged tightly with gauze from a cast.

Logan tried to move forward again, angling his body weight to throw himself up without falling back down like before. He had to blink rapidly a few times to get the blurriness out of his vision, but he remembered their urgent situation and how they needed to get out of here quickly before any other Stryker experiments occurred.

His chest already tightened at the fact of what Cyclops might've went through, and he didn't have the heart to ask. By Scott's sluggish movements and slurred speech, Logan could tell that the drugs were still wearing off and Scott was still probably piecing together the past events.

Logan tried to move forward, but tripped as his left leg pulled back. Disorientated and confused, he looked back to see a chain wrapped around his ankle tied to a crooked steel rod sprouting from the floor.

"Damn it," he cursed to himself, "Scott," he spoke louder, "hey!" he clapped his hands to get the attention from the groggy X-Man, "Wake up."

Scott's curly brown head lifted for a few seconds, and his face turned in Logan's direction. His eyes were covered by that thick cloth, but red-stained towels poked from beneath the coverings. Logan's eyes widened, as Scott's pallor and his clammy complexion made worry spark through him. Cyclops looked around wearily for a few seconds, before his head slammed back down on the mattress and he was still once again.

Great. That wasn't going to do much good.

His powers were suppressed, but that didn't mean they were completely gone. There had to be at least some of that incredible adamantium strength that came with his enhanced mutation, some of that rigid bone structure coursing through him. Logan concentrated hard, his anger pouring into the steel bracelet clasped around his ankle. Both fists gripping on the chain, Logan took a few deep breaths before pouring all of his strength in breaking the iron clasps. His knuckles turned white, the veins bursting through his skin, his biceps quivered, and his face turned red as he grunted with effort in breaking the chain. For a few seconds, he felt no change, until that familiar feeling of bending metal started to form under his fingertips. Encouraged, Logan pulled harder, his back arching as his muscles overworked themselves. The chain collapsed from underneath his hands, the iron clamps clattering to the floor uselessly as Logan laughed with victory.

Motivated, Wolverine searched the cell again with a light rest and some confidence. Time to find a way out.

"Did you see that Colonel Stryker?" one of his agents looked to him in awe, "That was-that was.."

"Incredible," he finished the sentence, eyes unblinking, "I have to agree."

The agent turned back to the monitor, the camera feed closing in on Wolverine's movements.

"Extract that footage and place it under the Weapon X file," Stryker ordered drily, "bring in the mutant experts, tell them to analyze his movements, behavior pattern, suppressant resistibility, and effectiveness. He'll be in later for testing."

"But, sir," the agent looked at him in confusion, "the Weapon X file has been unopened for years, the study was terminated."

"Not any longer," Stryker smiled evilly. The air became cooler, a suspicious chill causing shivers to crawl down peoples' spines

"Colonel Stryker," the agent's young eyes scanned the broken cuff and Wolverine pacing the room through the monitor.

Why was he going to reopen the Weapon X file? That was a complete disaster from what the stories said. A dangerous, vicious, animalistic mutant who had been caged for years while being tested, poked, prodded, and injected with everything was Stryker's experiment. The mutant escaped one day, leaving a bloodbath and a trail of bodies to show for the results of his imprisonment. But why reopen the Weapon X case? If that thing ever stepped foot back into this lab…

The agent's eyes widened, "Sir, are-are you telling me that…that's…"

The agent couldn't even finish the sentence.

"Weapon X has returned," Stryker's eyes were alive with mischief as he turned tail and walked confidently down the hall.

"Scott, Scott!" Logan roughly shook his friend's shoulder who woke up with a start in his exhausted condition.

"Logan-?" his brows scrunched behind his bloody eye gauze, "just leave me alone."

"Scott?" he persisted, "I think I found a way outta here, come on, get up."

Cyclops just shook his head and turned on his side, "Logan, just go, I'm tired. Leave me alone, I said."

"Scott," Logan furrowed his brows in apprehension, "what's the matter with you?"

He reached down and roughly shook Scott's shoulder again. This time, he reacted and jumped up angrily, "Get out of here, Logan! I told you to go!"

Something was wrong, something had to be. Sure, he and Scott had their differences, but this was no time to joke around. They had a common enemy here, and that was Colonel Stryker.

"Scott," his jaw clenched, "I don't know what the hell's gotten into you, but you're coming with me. Jean will fix you up, and then we could go back to hating each other, but right now we're leaving."

Logan made a move to go forward, but Scott stepped back defensively. His fists were clenched by his side, and his lip was slightly curled. He was ready to fight Logan. But with his mutation subdued, this might be an uneven match. Scott said his powers were uncontrollable, possibly enhanced, he couldn't take that on with his healing abilities not at full capacity. He'd have to egg Scott on another way. Right now, his advantage was Scott's blindness, he could use that as a method of attack.

"All right, Scott," he rocked back on his heels, "you wanna fight? Go ahead. Remember, those training sessions at the school, I kicked your ass-every time."

Scott growled, his anger building up.

"Show me what you got, come on-"

His adversary charged forward, and Logan was caught off guard. Scott rammed into him like a bull and tackled him down. His skull cracked against the concrete, and a sharp pain engulfed his body and racked his head. His vision went blurry and a steady wetness started to seep through his hair. His temper spiked too-that old, reliable Wolverine temper. He kicked back with his legs and Scott went flying through the air, his back connected with the concrete pillar on the other side of the room and he dropped to the floor coughing. Wolverine smirked, ready to accept the defeat of his fellow X-man, but Scott was relentless. He stood back up, wiping the blood from his lip with the back of his hand.

"You," even blind, he could sense a deep hurt in Scott's voice, "You took Jean away from me."

"What? Scott, why the hell are you talking about that now? Jean is yours, she loves you. Besides, that's not our priority, we got to get out, before Stryker-"

"Stryker?" he sneered, "You throw that name around, you wallow in self-pity because of your past. Haven't you ever stopped to think that you're not the only one that's had it tough? Huh?"

Logan growled, his anger reaching new levels that have been untouched for years-suppressed under his own dark memories. He knew Scott was…not himself, but that was a low blow. Right now, his thoughts involved either crushing his skull into the pavement, or throwing him off the empire state building-something along those lines. But, despite those comforting thoughts, Scott needed him. Jean needed him, and he'd do anything for Jean.

"Sorry, Scott," he snarled, "you're not going to like this."

Cyclops stood chillingly still, not moving and face void of emotion. Logan charged forward again, Scott ready to intercept him. His slightly mutated senses made up for the lack of sight, and he was still able to fight like any formidable adversary. He looked frightening with that bloody gauze over his eyes, his angry expression, and broad stance.

Logan ran forward in a charge, ready to take Scott on, when they heard a noise.

Both of the mutants stopped in their tracks, realizing that the high-pitched, eerie, metallic creak of the cell door opening was far more terrifying than anything else at the moment.

"Boys, boys, boys," even Scott in his weird, catatonic state registered the pain and fear that accompanied the low, melodic tone of Colonel Stryker's sickly, sweet voice.

"Scott, snap out of it!" Logan yelled, as the cell door opened completely and the military scientist stood silhouetted by the dim light.

"Leave him be, Wolverine," Stryker's evil smile angered him, "your friend Cyclops was very…compliant."

On his tablet, he approached Logan and swiped through photos of their battles. It was Wolverine, Storm, Jean, and Cyclops all suited for battle and fighting their enemies. There were snapshots zoomed in on Scott, his red ray beams sprouting from his eyes, his clever wit, his leadership capabilities, and his technological skills. It was like Stryker was looking through a catalog of exotic, expensive meats.

"What is that, Stryker?"

"Wolverine, you can't seriously believe that my interest in mutation was specifically exclusive to your capabilities?"Stryker chuckled as he slowly closed in on Scott, "no, no, of course not. Your friend here is equally as exquisite as you. An accident in his youth, triggered an obstacle in his mutation, but the gene still persisted. A mutation that is uncontrollable, especially one with this level of damage. Imagine, if the accident somehow subdued some effects of his mutation, perhaps my experimentation could open his horizons."

"How did you know about the accident?" Logan snarled. Scott barely shared about his past, never mentioned his dead brother or accident with the plane crash. It was because of some gossip from Hank McCoy, that Logan picked up on some of the news.

"New methods of persuasion," Stryker smiled sinisterly as he stopped dead short in front of Scott. Cyclops was shaking slightly, his fists clenched in anger. Logan could see the white in his knuckles.

"The hell you do to him, Stryker?" Logan advanced forward, but the gunmen at the door pointed their cattle prods at him. He endured that once before, not again.

"I merely widened his perspective," he glared at Logan with a side eye, "opened some old wounds, blurred the aspects of reality now and took his mind back to..a more primitive time."

" _Primitive_?" Logan scoffed, "Stop talking like a scholar, you bastard, look at him! Change him back!"

"Not now, Logan," Stryker gave him a crooked smile, "when we have so much to…catch up on."

"What?" a darkness dawned on him.

"Surely, Wolverine, you knew where this would lead."

"Never again, Stryker," Logan roared, "never again!"

The Colonel whipped a blade from his belt fast as lightning. He jumped behind Cyclops' back, his hand resting underneath Scott's chin. The razor sharp edge was pointed towards his throat, the vulnerable flesh underneath exposed.

"Rethink that response, Wolverine, or should I say, Weapon X."

Memories flooded back to Logan, dark times and tortures flashing before his eyes like a horror film of his life.

"Put it down, Stryker."

Scott was still, his body still quivering with whatever he endured from Stryker's treatments, and he was motionless.

"Scott, wake up! Take off the gauze!"

"Now, Wolverine! Make a decision!"

He couldn't leave his friend like that, at the mercy of Stryker's experimentation. Wolverine had endured it for years, he was accustomed to the torturous treatments, and he had a higher immunity to it because of his experience and adamantium skeleton. Scott, only gone for a few hours, was already 51/50. Jean would never forgive him if he let Scott go through this.

"Alright, Stryker, okay! You forced my hand, I'll do it. Just let Scott go."

Stryker smiled with content, the gears in his mind whirring rapidly at the satisfaction of having his old Weapon X back where he belonged. He motioned for one of his guards to bring him his tablet, and with a few swipes he held up an image of a brain scan and a few buttons. The name read: _Summers, Scott._

He pressed a few command keys, and Scott stopped shaking. He was rigid in his place, his fists turning white with the effort of his resistance against Stryker's influence. Stryker glared at Wolverine, then pressed a button. Scott dropped like a stone to the floor, his unconscious body collapsing to the pavement.

"Now, Wolverine, let's begin, shall we?"

Logan slowly felt his eyes open. He was strapped down to a metal table, all too familiar with the feeling. Last thing he remembered, Stryker was purring at him like a devilish cat and something knocked him upside the head.

"Logan!" he heard an urgent whisper echo through the wide room he was trapped in, "Hey, Logan!"

"Scott?" he turned his head groggily.

Cyclops was shackled to the wall, rusty chains restricting his movements as he blindly shook his head from side to side trying to get free.

"Logan, what the heck happened? Where are we?"

"You don't remember?" he struggled and growled as Wolverine pulled against those unbreakable straps holding him down, "Doesn't matter now, I'll kick your ass later, where the hell is Stryker?"

"You don't have to wait for long, Wolverine," the voice recording of Strkyer was just as sinister when it was played over a loudspeaker, "we're ready to begin."

"Begin?" Scott shouted, "Begin what?"

"Scott, be quiet, don't move. He won't touch you."

"Touch me-? Logan, what're you talking about?"

"Mr. Summers, for the X-Men leader, you are rather naive," Stryker commented, "watch-or rather, listen-and you will understand."

"Logan?" he asked apprehensively as his sharp hearing picked up the sound of whirring machines, "What're they doing?"

"Cover your ears, Scott," Wolverine sighed deeply, his eyes closed in silent fear, "you don't want to hear this."

"Test subject ready, blood pressure normal, heart rate a little high," the voice of a lab scientist echoed over the loudspeaker. He was speaking to Stryker.

"Get on with it," his voice was dripping excitement, "log: Weapon X continued."

"Weapon X?" Scott whispered to himself, that name was familiar. He thought he caught glimpses of the title when he heard the Professor and Logan talking together.

"Logan, in a series of tests, we will be monitoring the durability of your adamantium skeleton. It's been a long time, mutations can evolve. However, with my new mutation suppressing agent, it might be a bit…difficult to scrape the pavement, if you can understand."

"Just do it, Stryker, just do it!" This anxiety was eating him alive. At least when the treatment started, he wouldn't be able to think about Stryker's devilish grin as he tortured him just by waiting.

"Give the mutant what he wants," the voice accepted, and the pain began.

Scott immediately cringed when the metal whir of torture instruments sounded nearby. Shackled the wall, he couldn't get to his friend, and he couldn't very well see either. As the whirring tools became more adamant, and Stryker's sarcastic banter had finished, the real pain began.

All at once, he could hear the metal tools digging into something hard-something like metal. Then he realized, that was Logan's adamantium skeleton. Horror flooded through him, as he couldn't imagine what Wolverine was enduring. Stryker himself was enough to set him over the edge, but this was the tip of the iceberg.

"Logan!" he shouted, but his friend's screams of agony were louder, "Stryker, enough! Stop this!"

"Too late, my dear Cyclops, but you'll have your chance soon enough!" he cackled over the intercom.

A new feeling of dread filled him, this torture would be relentless. Stryker intended for a cruel cycle between both mutants. Logan and Cyclops switching between test subjects, until they were either dead or Stryker's curiosity was satisfied. Judging by the sounds of his gleeful laughs, that wasn't anytime soon. He wasn't worried about himself and torture, he would endure whatever he could to save his friends, but Logan couldn't stay here any longer. He was a veteran of Stryker's previous experimentation efforts, and he saw the damage it caused him. Never again could he let that happen.

 _Use your senses, Scott, stop this!_ He tried to calm himself down and get working. Gears in his mind turned, but he flinched ever so often as he heard Wolverine's painful cries. His super hearing couldn't miss that. It sounded like Logan's bones were being broke one by one, then those pieces were being crushed too. He couldn't bear that sound, he couldn't endure it. No, no, no! He was the leader, he had to protect his team, how could he let this happen!? Logan's cries were relentless, like a broken record on repeat-a never ending cycle of his torture.

"You hear that, Mr. Summers?" Stryker broke his concentration, he didn't realize that behind that bloody gauze his eyes were tightly shut. His body was hunched against the wall, his head resting on his knees. "You see, I didn't want Weapon X to have all the fun," he laughed, "I've been in your mind, Cyclops, I know your thoughts. Listening to it would be just as much of a torture for you!"

He was right. With his super hearing, these torturous sounds would be engraved into his mind for years. Those nightmares that Logan had from time to time, was something that he might start to understand.

When Logan opened his eyes, and he saw those fluorescent bulbs blaring down at him like stadium lights, he knew what it meant. Immediately, his body refueled with a dread he hadn't experienced in a long time. Those lights, the cold metal table on his bare back, the leather straps rubbing against his skin, and the frozen metal tools above him just waiting to descend on its prey. Stryker's voice blared over the loudspeaker as it used to, the white tiled room like a gory operating room. The tools above him included razor blades, saws, and scalpels. If Stryker was in a particularly good mood, they'd stick to those scraping and cutting him for a few hours, but if he was in a bad mood, then more dangerous habits surfaced. If there were complications with Stryker's mutant son, Jason, they'd bring out the flamethrowers, acids and chemicals, spiked clubs, and medieval tools to test his limits.

After Stryker gave his little spiel, he heard the deep engines of the metal tools come to life. It slowly closed the distance between them, starting off with the razor blades slicing into him. Pain immediately erupted in his right left shoulder as a fire engulfed him. He could barely hear Scott's distant screams and protests, as his own drowned out all sound. His thoughts were muddled with a demanding white hot pain, but his sensible mind was trying to focus on killing Stryker when he got the chance. His only hope was passing out before the torture got really bad.

"Scott!" he shouted, "Argh! Do something!"

"Logan!" he could hear the fervent clattering of the shackles as Scott tried to get free, "Hold on, I-I'm trying! I can't get out!"

"You hear that, Logan?" Stryker cackled, "Even your own leader can't protect you! Mr. Summers, how does it feel to see your friend like this, and you powerless to stop me!"

"Enough, you're killing him!"

Even Stryker was cut off as a powerful shudder passed through Logan's body and his back arched off the table as a powerful scream of agony ripped through him.

"The beautiful thing about Weapon X, is that he can never die!" Stryker continued, "My adamantium creation has ensured a permanent test subject! He is the quintessence of experimentation-a test subject that can be reused!"

"Logan, hang on!" Scott tried to urge his friend.

"There is no use, Cyclops," the military scientist purred, "take notes, you're next!"

"NO!" they were both shocked to hear Logan's protest.

"What's this? An act of valor, Wolverine?"

"Logan, what the hell are you talking about?!" Scott demanded.

"Stryker-agh!" he cried, "Let Scott go, whatever you have to do-!" he strained while speaking, "Do it to me!"

"No!" Scott shouted, "Stryker, no!"

There was a moment of trepidation by Stryker. He was analyzing Logan's intervention and Scott's response. This was interesting. He wanted to inflict the most damage he could. For Logan, that was physical pain, because a man who could heal by genetic design could feel an infinite amount of pain. But, for Scott, the best torture would be to see his leadership fail and the ones he cared about destroyed under his command. A psychological torture.

"Very well, Wolverine!" he laughed gleefully, "Your wish is my command."

"NO!" Scott lunged again, this time a fierce anger boiled from within. He could feel his body heat with fury, his blood rushing to his head. He didn't realize he was actually _heating up_ , until the metal shackles at his wrist glowed red-orange. An adamant pain built behind his eyes, a growing force demanding attention. Scott tried to hold it back, Stryker's mutation enhancer making his abilities unprecedented. The gauze shielding his eyes starts to smolder, smoke rising from the charred fabric.

"That's it, Cyclops, let it out! Unleash your mutation!"

He had to help Logan, he had to do something.

 _No! You don't know what damage you can cause! Your mutation is untamed, you don't have control! Logan could be killed!_

He shouted with effort as the pain in his body was building to a climax. He literally felt that if he didn't unleash his power, he would explode. Stryker's words egged him on as he was encouraging Scott to unveil the power of his mutation, and one more bout of Logan's screams sent him over the edge.

Logan would rather be killed than endure this for a second longer.

 _Screw it._

He opened his eyes. His body arched, his spine going rigid as the laser beams from his eyes seared the gauze to minuscule ashes. The red beams were powerful, hotter, and fiercer than ever before with the thought of Logan's predicament.

He aimed and fired at the metal torture tools, the cursed machinery splintering and bubbling under his blast.

Logan's vision swam in and out, but as his shouts drowned out noise, a red blast engulfed his blurry surroundings. His eyelids slid closed, and he heard shouts and commands from loudspeaker and from Scott, surprisingly.

The next thing he felt was his hands and legs being released from the metal straps, blood staining his skin as his limbs cut into the metal trying to rip free.

"Logan, Logan!" he heard a distant voice, one familiar, "I'm gonna get us out, just hang on!"

He closed his eyes, and his world went black.

Wolverine woke with a start. His heart was racing at a thousand miles a minute as his mind echoed with a string of torturous nightmares.

"Wha-?" his back went rigid as he sailed into a sitting position.

He looked around, baffled. Where the hell was he? He remembered the feeling of razor blades digging into his flesh, the unbearable pain a tidal wave that washed through him with devastating effects. Every waking moment, he imagined Stryker's cruel, callous laugh, envisioned the bars that trapped him in a cage as Weapon X, the screeching whir of metal tools preparing to slice into him like meat. Nightmares plagued him, his personality was refined to a sharp cut, not willing to let anyone near in fear of possible consequences.

Right now, his thoughts were muddled. His mutation suppressed, the healing didn't occur quite as fast as it usually could. Logan looked down at his mangled body, the cuts on his arms not as ghastly, but still deep, throbbing wounds that trickled with blood. The rest of his body fared the same, but his limbs were sore and his back protested in a persistent ache.

As he looked around, Logan was propped up against the wall of what looked like a boiler room. Two big, rusty tanks were stationed side by side, shielding him. He rested his head back, relieved at the momentary sanctuary. How did he get here?

It pained him, but he had to try and remember the circumstances of his escape. He obviously didn't manage it, no logical thought ran through his head at the moment except thoughts of murdering Stryker. But before he lost consciousness, he saw two powerful red beams of light, similar to Scott's mutation, but these looked more powerful, and more potent.

His sharp eyes caught the sight of torn fabric behind one of the tanks. Immediately, Logan stiffened and growled. He wasn't in any condition to take on an assailant at the moment, but anger bubbled through him like acid. Then, he realized that he had a partner in this captivity.

"Scott?" he growled, still angry and on high alert.

No movement.

Logan groaned as he hoisted his body up against the wall to a tentative standing position. His legs weren't sturdy, his gait crooked and aim wonky. Pain broiled in his skull, a pressure building behind his eyes adamantly.

When he rounded the corner, a piece of sharp metal in his hand to substitute for his claws, he looked down at the body lying there.

It was Scott Summers. He was sprawled on his stomach, his hands bleeding, his face on its side. The jumpsuit Stryker fitted him in was torn and thready in some places, but dirty and grimy and bloody.

"Scott?" he nudged the body with his boot, his head reeling like he was concussed. The effort of moving his stitching muscles reopened some wounds and he hissed as the mending tissue bled once more. It dripped to the floor, drop by drop, "Get up. We need to get out."

The X-Man was spent. His breathing was deep and labored, like he was still out of breath even in his rest. Around his eyes, the skin was tired and bruised. Almost black. It must've been that mutation enhancer that Stryker had injected into Cyclops. After trying so hard to hold it back, he finally let it loose. It did some serious damage, not so much to surroundings, but to Scott himself. His hands had a blackened tint to them too, the veins looking darker as they ran up his arm.

If only Logan didn't have the mutation inhibitor, if he could've helped Scott, he would've. This was new power that Scott freshly lifted the lid on, who knew the effects it had on his body and mind. Jean would have to take a look at him, but when he would see her again, he didn't know. He had to get them out, if Scott got them this far then Wolverine could try to finish the race. Stryker's men no doubt were looking for him in the entire facility. The good news was, it was a big facility, the bad news is that he was injured, tired, alone, and had to carry his teammate out with him in a high guarded, sanctioned facility.

Logan bent to a knee, hoisting Scott's arm around his neck, the X-Man forced into a dragging/standing position. His legs trailed behind him as Wolverine grunted with effort in attempting to move them. He took a few steps, before his shaking muscles flared with a sharp pain and he dropped Scott. He was unconscious, he wouldn't know. But his body slammed to the floor like a sack of potatoes, and Logan realized how out of it he really was. How long would this last? Sure, he realized he needed some rest, but they had to get out of here, and fast.

He perked up, voices trailed down the hall and wafted eerily through the boiler room. They were coming.

"Come on, Scott," he groaned as he bent to a knee and attempted to carry him again. This wasn't going to work, he had to carry him in a more efficient manner. Logan grabbed the heavy Cyclops and draped his body around his neck. Scott's arms rested on his shoulder as his legs rested against the other. This could do, but Logan huffed and puffed as he pulled up to both legs. Scott's head bobbed against his shoulder, his ruffled hair matted with grime and dirt.

"Hang in there, bud," he patted his leg, "I'm gonna get us out."

Wolverine stumbled at first, resting on a tanker with Cyclops around his neck like a rag doll. The voices drifted closer, it was now or never.

He ducked out of the room and sprinted down the corridor.

 _Chapter 3 coming soon!_


	3. Chapter 3

"Damn!" Logan finally had to come to a stop. Sweat was dripping down his face and back, his legs burning as his weak muscles struggled to carry his and Cyclops' weight. He crashed into walls right and left, the burdenous weight across his shoulders too much for his exhausted body to bear.

He dropped Scott as gently as he could, but the unconscious X-Man was unceremoniously propped against another aluminum wall. He had felt like he circled the facility hundreds of times, managing to dodge and duck past search teams relentlessly tearing up the joint in search of both missing mutants.

It was a miracle they weren't caught already.

A miracle that didn't last for long.

It was one worker. He wasn't even a soldier. One worker carting a shipment to Stryker's offices had caught them. Logan should've heard him from far off, but he didn't realize he was drifting to sleep from over exhaustion. His eyes shot open as he heard a gasp.

In front of him, a boy, barely 18 or 19, was looking at the two mutants in horror and shock. Alarms and bells were ringing throughout the facility like it was Defcon 1, and he had found them. They were the ones described, one of them tall, buff, dark hair, hard features, the other, shorter, thinner, leaner, and with glasses, and both highly dangerous.

"Please, no," his eyes widnened, "No, no, shh, no, don't scream, please, no-"

"Help!" the boy raised his head to the sky and shouted with all his might, "The mutants! Help, over here! The ones you're looking for!"

Already, he could hear the pounding of heavy boots sprinting down the corridor in their direction. Logan growled and jumped to his feet, disregarding the protests of his pain-filled body. He grabbed the boy's hair with one fist, and banged his head against the wall. He cried out, but his eyes rolled to the back of his head and he crumpled to the floor.

It was time to move again. Wolverine grunted as he hoisted Cyclops on his back once again, his quivering knee giving out as he tried to get to his feet.

Logan continued his chase, desperately looking for a way out. It wouldn't be long before he wasn't able to continue, before he dropped because he couldn't carry on any more.

 _No, that's not an option._

"Colonel Stryker, sir, please, w-we're trying-"

"Trying?!" Stryker slammed his hands down on the table, "More like failing! Both my mutants are running around this facility loose! And not just any mutants, one of them is Weapon X! Do you understand what that means, officer?"

"Y-yes, sir, but-"

"Obviously not! Weapon X is a lethal, relentless, vicious, deadly machine that _I created_ to withstand anything. He is indestructible," his anger broiled in his veins, "He will rip this place apart, brick by brick, until he's free. He's wild, he's out of control!"

"Sir, the delta team got a shout from one of the workers on his location, they should be closing in on them soon-"

"What happened to that worker now?"

"Sir?"

"You heard me!"

"U-um, broken nose, sir, dislocated jaw, chipped teeth, swollen eye, deep cuts, and a concussion, Colonel Stryker."

"And that was just a small hit to a wall," Stryker's grip on the desk tightened until his knuckles turned white, "imagine what he has in store for us. Weapon X cannot succeed, cannot be set free. Capture him, but don't kill him. I will have him _begging at my shoes_ before I grant him such a mercy."

"If it's any consolation, the mutant is injured. The suppressant you administered is still in effect, he's not at full power."

"Did you see the other? He melted through the examination room like it was butter, he's equally a threat."

"There's been no reports on Cyclops, sir."

" _Do not call them by their names_ ," he snapped at his officer, "they are mutants, they are abominations, they are things, they are experiments. They have no title, their only purpose is research. Remember that."

"B-but, your son, sir-"

Stryker shot up in his face like a ghost, his features quivering with fury, "If you _ever_ bring up my son again, I will hang you by the throat with the tie around your neck myself, do you understand?"

"Y-yes, sir."

"What's the status?" he said in a low, edgy tone.

"From our last witness, Weapon X seems to be injured. The suppressant is inhibiting his healing power, and he's having trouble regaining strength from his efforts. If we can close in on him, we can take him down."

"Then find him, find him now. If I don't see Wolverine's battered, beaten body in front of my eyes in the next half hour, I'm strapping _you_ onto the experimentation table."

The officer gulped in fear, "Yes, sir," he turned on his heel and shuffled out the door.

"Why are you so goddamn heavy!" Logan groaned as he deposited Scott's limp body on the floor again.

No response.

"Aw, come on, Scott," he growled, "man up! You can't be sleeping forever!"

He didn't mean the sting in his words. Scott saved his life. Every time he blinked, he could see the callous examination table, those sharp tools, that cold laugh….If it weren't for Cyclops, he'd still be down there. Logan shuddered at the thought, his hair prickling.

If only his claws could unsheathe! That would be a miracle, they'd be out of this joint by now.

He heard a moan from beneath him. Logan winced as he stood up straight, holding his side. He looked down and saw Scott move his head.

"Scott?" Logan bent to his knees in front of him and slapped his cheek, "Hey, buddy, get up. Come on."

"Wha-? Logan?" Scott's eyes were scrunched, but he detected the gruff tone and sharp edge to Wolverine's voice.

"Thatta boy, Scott," he clapped his shoulder, laughing, "welcome back."

"What?" he shook his head, "W-where did I go?"

He rolled his eyes, "Not our biggest problem right now. I've been hauling your ass all over this damn facility, but I can't get us out."

"Where are we?"

"Stryker's facility, come on, Scott, wake up," he clapped his hands and Cyclops flinched at the sound.

Despite his disorientation, he still had the sense to keep his eyes tightly shut. That meant his other senses were heightened, including his confusion. He was sure this was a side effect of his power. Logan, although barely conscious at the time, could feel the immensity Cyclops' enhanced power delivered. The heat, the pain, the power-it was overwhelming. He couldn't blame Scott for being a little out of it, hell, he would need to sleep for the next few days and rest, but they didn't have that kind of time. Stryker's cronies were crawling through the facility looking for the two, and both weren't at their top game. The Colonel would throw everything he could at them, and they looked like a bunch of ragtag hobos off the streets.

"Okay, okay," he rubbed his temples, trying to block out Logan's grating voice, "just…not so loud."

"Here," Logan dug into his pockets and revealed a cracked, bent pair of ruby quartz lens. He pressed it into Scott's hand, who greedily held it close to him and nestled them on the bridge of his nose. It was his special pair to contain his mutation, and immediately he felt relief at the prospect of some control and stability in their outlandish situation.

"Logan?" he asked, a little tired and confused.

"Yeah?"

"Run it by me," he sighed, his voice full of exhaustion, "what's our situation?"

"Not good."

"Well, thanks," he snapped, his irritation a result of his weak condition, "B-but, I'm still a little woozy, so you've got to work with me here."

"Scott, I can't give you the play by play right now!" Logan's voice rose, "I've been here before, these people don't give up! We've got Stryker's men on our tails, our mutations are faulty, and if we don't get out of here within the next few hours, then Stryker will eat us for lunch on that table," Logan took a deep breath, easing back his temper, "I get it, you're a little out of action, so am I," he glanced down at the slow healing slices on his upper body, "but we got to get outta here, Scott, or we'll die in here."

"Alright j-just help me up, please," he shakily slid up the wall, trying to gain his balance. Behind his glasses, Logan couldn't tell what Scott was feeling, but he didn't have time to play therapist. He was a freaking X-Man. He would get out of here.

"How's your mutation doing?" Scott panted as he rested his hands on his knees. Logan didn't realize how spent his partner was.

He held up a closed fist and willed for his claws to unsheathe, they poked out a little, the tips ripping through his skin. He hissed as blood started to pour from between his fingers, his will strong as he was determined to unleash his power.

"Not far along," Logan finally shook his head and dropped his hand to his side, "but we have to make do."

"And your healing?"

"Slow," he gently scanned the long, deep slices scarring his arms and chest, the whir of metal tools still ringing in his ears, "but getting there."

"So, what's our way out?"

"Last time I escaped," Logan nodded in the direction of North, "waterfall."

"Okay," Scott furrowed his brows, "let's go."

"Don't be stupid, Scott, that's the first place Stryker will cover. Come on, you're our leader, get your head back in the game! What did you do to get us out of the experimentation room?" he shuddered just thinking about it.

"Umm," he gripped his temples, "my eyes. Stryker kept egging me on, and I just-just…snapped. I don't know what happened, but Logan I can tell you that I melted those walls like candle wax."

"Good," he nodded, "is your strength back up?"

"Kind of, why?"

"Cause you're going to do it again."

"What-? No!"

"Scott," Logan growled through his teeth.

"Logan, please," he entreated, "I can't do it, I-I can't."

"Get it together, Scott, when have I ever asked you to do something for me? This is to save our lives-"

"At the expense of hundreds of others?" Scott argued, "You might be able to stomach that, Logan, but I can't."

"I've seen countless of men fall, Scott," Logan edged closer to Cyclops, "war, famine, disease, natural disaster, suicide, murder, and a seemingly infinite amount of others."  
"Look, Logan, I'm not doubting your resolve, I know you've been carrying most of the weight, and I'm sorry. But, I can't. I'm putting my foot down on this one, alright?" his tone hardened, "And there's no changing that."

Both of them perked up at the sound of an approaching convoy of men. Their boots busted against the ground vehemently, and their voices grew louder.

Logan knew this was their only chance to get out. He couldn't carry Scott anymore, he needed a miracle. Scott wasn't going to like it, but it had to be done.

Cyclops' back still pressed up against the wall, and his breaths were coming in huffs and puffs from his exhaustion. Damn, that power took a lot out of him…but desperate times called for desperate measures.

Logan surged forward, and placed an iron grip around Scott's chest, pinning him to his sternum.

"Logan? Logan! What are you doing?! Let go!"

"Sorry, Scott," Wolverine continued mercilessly, "I've gotta do what I gotta do."

"No!"

Logan reached his hand around and subdued his efforts to push him off. Maybe with full strength he would have a slim chance, but drained like this, there was no possibility. Logan pulled off Scott's glasses, and shifted his body so Scott was facing the doorway.

Cyclops was growling, hissing, and cussing beneath him. Logan used his legs and restrained him even further and eventually Scott succumbed as the heavy boot pounding sounded right outside their little haven of a room. Logan felt his friend's body tense up beneath him, his muscles stiffen, and his breathing become laborious as his tightly screwed eyes slowly relaxed.

"In here! I see them, they're in here!"

"Do it, Scott!"

Cyclops opened his eyes and shouted as a cyclone of power unleashed before him and decimated everything in its path.

 **Chapter 4 coming soon!**


	4. Chapter 4

Stryker roared as he flung all of the sundry objects on his desk against the wall with a sweep of his hands, "What do you mean they escaped?!"

"Sir-sir, not completely escaped," one of his men stuttered, "the mutants are still in the building."

"Then why are they not captured yet?!" he shouted, breathing like a bull.

"Almost, sir, our delta team was on top of them-"

"But they outmatched you?" he said with malicious sarcasm, "Tell me how that could occur, _with both of their powers subdued?"_

"Not both, sir, the laser-eyed one is-is quite powerful."

Stryker growled and turned away, "That was a mistake on my part. I looked into that Mr. Summers' head. He was too afraid to test the extent of his capabilities, very tentative in realizing his true potential. It must be Logan's doing, he's coercing the other into collaboration."

Stryker's henchman stayed silent.

"The waterfall exit is blocked correct?"

"Yes, sir, that was the first area we secured."

"Piping routes are sealed?"

"Yes, our men are currently patrolling just in case."

"And ventilation systems?"

"Of course, sir."

"Where were they last spotted."

"They apparently were resting in the boiler room, until our delta team caught up with them."

"How did they get away?" his voice was deadpan.

"The Cyclops mutant, sir, it was a powerful beam that erupted from his eyes. Decimated everything in it's path."

"Another power surge?" Stryker now thought to himself, "Fascinating."

"Our recovery team reported that there were no survivors, sir, and the mutants are missing once more."

Stryker strolled to his desk, his footsteps reverberating off the walls.

"The next course of action is your desire, sir."

"Yes," Stryker opened his desk drawer, "what was your name again, boy?"

"Phillips, sir."

"Yes, well," there was a slight hesitation, before from his desk drawer Stryker revealed a gun and shot the man twice in the chest.

Phillips looked down at his blood-stained uniform in shock, then back at Stryker in fear. Before he had a chance to fall, Stryker had an arm at his shoulder keeping him in place.

"I told you," he whispered sinisterly in his ear, "the next time I saw you with no results, you were a dead man. Your lucky I'm being merciful and that you're not stuck in that experimentation room like those other mutants."

Phillips dropped to the floor. Dead.

"Logan?"

He heard a faint voice calling to him.

"Logan, hey, wake up!"

"Wha-? What the…?" Logan felt himself stir, his senses slowly returning to him.

""Wake up, man, come on," he heard a strained voice behind him.

"Scott?" when his eyes opened, a splitting headache racked his brain, and he groaned as his head rested against the cool floor again.

"Take it easy, Logan," he heard his friend's familiar voice.

"What the hell happened?" Logan, eyes scrunched, tried to make a reality out of his jumbled thoughts.

"Just…stay calm."

He didn't like the tone of his voice. It sounded worried.

"Scott?" he said slowly, "Wha-what's going on?"

"I-it's just a slight burn, nothing to be too alarmed over."

"Burn?" Logan felt his breathing hitch, "What do you mean?"

"Just relax-"

"Scott, what the hell is it?!"

He jumped upright and looked down at his leg. Logan almost passed out at the sight of it.

It was charred flesh from a heavy blast that was, undeniably, from the powerful blast of mutant capabilities.

"S-Scott?" his gasped, "W-wha-"

"Logan," Scott hung his dark, curly-brown head, "I'm sorry, I'm so, so, sorry."

"What. Happened." his sentence was choppy.

"My powers, I-I told you they were out of control," he looked at Wolverine earnestly, "I didn't mean any of it, Logan, all those people who died."

"Save it," he held up a hand, "my leg."

"When I pulled you out," he sighed, "it was…," he shook head, not wanting to think about it, "but I think you're mutation is kicking in. A little bit faster than before, but still suppressed. I've been trying to wrap it up, but we can't get out of here with you handicap."

"Don't worry about me," Logan winced, "I'll be fine."

"No, you're not, Logan!" Scott retorted, "For once, can you listen to me?! You cannot go on with your leg like this, then Stryker will catch us, then we're finished!"

"Then why wake me up? Logan scoffed, "To tell me the bad news in person?"

"No," Scott shook his head, his tone stinging, "your mutation has been in submission for too long. We need to accelerate the process. Truth is, Logan," Scott's shoulders sagged, "I've got nothing left in me. One more blast like that and I'm done for. Maybe if I rest a little, or regain some strength, I might be able to pull something off, but nothing of that caliber again."

Logan felt some guilt gnawing at his stomach for his actions earlier, for forcing Scott into using his unstable mutation against his will.

"How can we accelerate the process?" Wolverine wondered, "It's been like this for hours."

He tried to will his claws to emerge, but they were still stuck at the tips.

"Look, Stryker did something to enhance mine…if I can remember correctly, we can replicate the process with you."

"How? What did he do?"

"It's not here," Scott looked around at their dingy hiding spot, "but I pulled us as far as I could with the strength I have."

Scott did look beat. His skin was pale and sweaty, his hair was matted to his head, his arms were shaking, and his clothes were singed and torn.

"When Stryker took me away, I was sent to this place called the Memory Locker. I don't know what that is…but it did wonders, Logan."

"The Memory Locker?" Logan tried to rack his brain in identifying the location of this mysterious place. When he was trapped her, he had never been to the Memory Locker, and he didn't really want to see it. But, if he could get his powers back in order, then anything would do.

"Do you remember where it was?"

He nodded sullenly.

"All right, let's go."

With help from Scott, Logan hobbled to his feet, crying out when his boot scraped against the floor. Scott tried to shush him to stop any attention being attracted to them, but what else was Logan to do.

It was like a give-and-take between their arrangement; Scott would lean heavily on Logan's shoulders and vice versa. They staggered along down the paths, clumsily avoiding squadrons of Stryker's soldiers. Logan was coughing blood periodically, his breaths ragged, and his head spinning. His entire body was heating up with exhaustion and strain, but he needed to continue. Scott led the way, his head turning from side to side in search of enemies, but they continued their trek through the vast complex. It was like a never ending labyrinth of painful memories. He could practically hear his screams of pain and fury when Stryker kept him here as an experiment. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get the sickly sweet smile of the Colonel out of his mind.

"In here," Scott warned him in a strained whisper, "finally."

"You don't have to go in there, Scott," Logan looked at him, "you are beat, and I know what it must've been like to be in there. I don't wanna chance anything."

There was a moment's hesitation.

"No," Scott shook his head, "there is absolutely no way I'm going to let you go in there alone. Logan, we've had our differences, but we are still part of a team, and I'm not going to let you down. This place did something to you, and what type of leader would I be if I didn't support an X-Man."

Logan was taken aback. This new side to Scott was one he was strangely unfamiliar with.

"Okay," he nodded slowly, "let's go."

Up ahead was a metal doorway, a small, barred, square glass window at the top the only source of light. Scott shivered next to him as they duo made their way over carefully, aware of any passing squadrons with weapons ready. The heavy latch on the doorway looked daunting, like it was locking a beast inside.

"The Memory Locker," Scott looked the door up and down, "It should be able to help your mutation like mine."

The pair entered the room, the heavy creak of the door opening sending warning flags through Wolverine to be aware of any guards who heard it. Scott quickly pushed it shut when Logan hobbled inside, crying out as he staggered to the floor.

"Logan!" Scott ran forward and kneeled at his side.

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" Logan put a hand up, "l-let's just get this thing working."

"O-okay…are you sure?"

"Quickly, Scott, let's go," he growled harshly.

"Well," Cyclops stood back up, standing in front of the door as he peered out the small window, "I was wheeled in here, strapped down on a gurney. I couldn't see too well, but I was placed in that corner on the cot," he pointed to the far wall where a cot covered in white sheets was cleanly waiting.

"There?" Logan looked at it warily. The dim red lights in the Memory Locker gave it a scary glow.

"Yes," Scott nodded shakily, his head spinning, "then, Stryker injected me with a sedative or something, but I remember him standing behind this control panel, operating it."

Both of their heads turned when the deep voices of armed guards started to sound nearer.

"Scott," Logan looked to him, his entire body screaming with urgency, "get me in that bed."

Scott sprinted forward and threw Logan's arm over his shoulder, heaving him off the floor. The weight of his adamantium was incredible, and he gritted his teeth and groaned with exertion as he helped lift Logan from his crouched position.

Logan's bad leg dragged against the floor roughly and he yelled despite his efforts to keep quiet. That definitely attracted the guards' attention.

"Hey!" there was a heavy banging at the door, "Who's in there!?"  
"Now or never, Scott!" he grunted as his back hit the stiff mattress and he extended his body on the bed. Scott, with shaky, cold fingers, placed little sticky, circular nodes on his temples. Next, he reached for a syringe lying on a metal tray ready for its next use. It had a vibrant green liquid inside, almost glowing in the dim red lights.

"Open up!"

"Hurry up, Scott, hurry up," Logan rushed his friend.

"Well," Scott looked back and forth between Logan and the pounding door, "I-I don't know your measurements, so I don't know the dosage…"

"Okay?" Wolverine asked, frustrated.

"So…I'm just guessing with the sedative quantity. But, if the mutation treatment works, then you'll heal fast enough before the overdose kills you."

"Overdose kills me?!" Logan repeated outrageously.

"This door is coming down if you don't open this door!" the guards persisted once more.

"Oh, to hell with it!" he looked at a nervous, ill Scott, "just do it!"

Scott bit his lip but plunged the needle into Logan's neck. He gripped the sheets with his fists, the long, sharp needle in his neck releasing the vibrant green contents into his bloodstream. Already, he could feel the drowsiness seeping over him, the relaxation spreading through his limbs, and his eyelids drooping closed.

"Scott?" his voice sounded deep and drawn out, the objects in his vision swimming unclearly.

He felt his eyes close all the way, the distant pounding at the door drowning out with everything else.

"Wha-?" Logan felt his eyes burst open, his pupils adjusting to the harsh light blaring down upon him, "W-where am I?"

"Logan."

"P-Professor?"

Logan, strapped down to the table with thick leather straps, lifted his head and saw the shadow of a figure sitting in a mechanical wheelchair.

"Professor, what are you doing here? Why am I tied down?"

He saw the wheelchair start to move forward, Xavier navigating it so he stopped just short of his face.

"Logan," he repeated, "he's counting on you."

"Who? Professor, I don't understand-"

"You're letting him down, Logan."

"Professor! Just explain to me what the hell is going on-"

"The claws, Logan. Let loose your claws."

"I-I can't…my mutation's shot, I can't get them out."

"Try."

Logan took a deep breath and with all his might willed his claws to unsheathe, to appease the Professor, but to no avail.

"You see?" he growled, thrashing against the straps in frustration, "It's not working! Untie me!"

"You are the Wolverine, Logan! Become your mutation, only you can control it. No medicine can hold you down, no one can stop you! You heal for a reason, because your body matches your resolve.

"Professor, why can't you help me? Please, I'm sure there's some equipment that Jean can use or Storm-"

"No, Logan! This is your mission to solve, your obstacle to overcome! Think, Logan, think. Scott needs you, he'll die without the proper medical attention, his mutation is too powerful, he's burning up."

"No!"

"Yes," the Professor said cooly, still in the shadows, "think about Strkyer, think about your time in the facility. They tortured you, they ripped away your identity. Are you going to allow that to happen again? Is Stryker going to rob you of your greatest asset? Logan, you're claws are who you are, and even with the Colonel's medicines and devices, you ultimately control your destiny. Now, unsheathe your claws!"


	5. Chapter 5

Logan's eyes opened slowly, a new sheen of focus and determination empowered him as he sat upright. There was chaos around him, in that red-lit Memory Locker. He felt strong…something he hadn't felt since he woke up trapped in this nightmare. Scott was throwing his shoulder against the metal door, his face screwed up in pain, sweat dripping down his pale face. Voices screamed outside, weapons banging against the walls. Someone put a bullet through the small, glass window, shards falling down on Scott. He yelled and stepped back as a shard sliced his forehead and blood poured down his eye.

He stumbled back, his hands trying to hold his shaking body against the wall. Logan could see Scott was afraid; the soldiers were coming in like a horde, and the only way to protect themselves was another blast of his laser vision. All of them, including the soldiers, knew that Scott didn't have that power left in him. One more blast and he'd die.

Scott put his hands on his face, one side coming away wet with blood, but his fingers were on his ruby quartz glasses.

"No, Scott!" Logan yelled from the bed.

"Logan?" he turned his head in his direction, hope and fear mingled in his eyes.

Wolverine growled low and deep, then slowly shifted his legs to the side of the bed. He stood up well over 6 feet, his form buff and powerful.

"Logan," Scott's voice was full of shock and confusion, "your leg. You can put weight on it."

He looked down. That's right, he didn't even remember it was injured. His pain was completely gone, even his exhaustion slowly dissipated. A dangerous smile tugged at his lips.

"Your healing factor is back, Logan," Cyclops said warily, "does that mean…"

"Let's find out," he answered his teammate and stood poised for attack by the cot. A battering ram had the door barely hanging on its hinges and one more charge made it go flying. Logan dodged the heavy metal door as it smashed into the far wall, with a squadron of soldiers plowing in behind it.

Three men seized Scott, jumping on him like football linebackers. He didn't even have time to raise his fists. Seven of them surrounded Logan, all of them weapons raised and screaming at the top of their lungs.

He looked back and forth from all of them, a newfound sense of confidence and power surging through him. Damn, they needed a Memory Locker back at the school. Who knew it felt so good.

"On your knees, I said! NOW!"

"Get down!"

"Hands up!

Logan slowly dipped to one knee, both hands behind his head, but something mischievous lingered in his eyes.

A soldier approached from behind to slap a pair of cuffs on his wrist, then he unleashed it.

Inches of pure adamantium metal emerged from his knuckles as his claws unsheathed to their full extent. A familiar sense of adrenaline rushed through him along with relief at regaining his abilities. He swung low and sliced through the leg of one, back up and scratched another's chest, to the side and shredded a forearm, back down and cut a thigh muscle. It was hacking and clawing left and right, like a butcher in a slaughterhouse.

"Yes!" he cried in his joyful rush.

He charged the three men tackling Scott and flung them back like rag dolls. Cyclops groaned a little on his stomach, cuffs placed on his wrist, but Logan easily sliced through the metal and lifted Scott up by the collar of his shirt.

"Come on, move it!"

Somehow, Scott found his footing and they were sprinting through a hallway, making turns right and left. He just kept his eyes on Logan and followed, the guy knew this place better than he did. A major part of him sighed a great breath of relief at Logan regaining his powers. The claws and the healing were the greatest assets in battle, and they had all of Stryker's troops looking for them.

"Scott, come on, over here!"

"I don't think," he panted heavily, hands resting on his knees, "I can make it any farther."

"We're almost outta here and now you quit!? Come on, man, shape up! Let's go!"

"Easy for you to say," he continued to pant like a dog, "you can heal."

"Look, Scott, I know you're spent, but this is home stretch. I need you to tough it out a little longer."

"Oh, all right," he lowered his head, "but I need a weapon, I'm not using my sight."

"You couldn't even if you wanted to. Here," Logan picked a gun off of an unconscious soldier resting against the wall, "he's not using it. Let's go."

Off they went, down another set of dizzying hallways, Cyclops leaning heavily on the healed Logan. He was looking for the exit, ready to claw through anyone dumb enough to stop him.

"Logan," Scott panted,"not the waterfall, remember? He'll be expecting that."

"I know," he agreed grimly, "the alternative isn't better."

"What?"

"The main exit."

"That's a great plan if you want to die."

"What? Stryker won't be expecting that."

"Because no one is stupid enough to try it."

"Guess what? We are. Stryker is probably camped out there anyway, kill two birds with one stone."

"You want to kill Stryker? Now?"

"I've been dreaming about it every day since I left this place, Scott, and I'm not coming back here voluntarily."

"Logan, I know revenge is a big thing to you, but to jump into a suicide plan for temporary satisfaction?"

"You are the leader, Scott, I respect you, and I expect you to do the same with me. You don't know my past, you don't know how much I want this."

"No one can go through what you did without coming off with a few cracks in the armor, Logan, but you're healing ability not only fixed your body, but gave you a sound mind. I can't convince you to stay, I can't fight you in my condition, but god dammit, Logan, I'm asking you."

Logan paused for a moment, thinking over Scott's words. He opened his mouth to speak when the sound of a gun went off and Scott fell to the floor. Logan reacted almost immediately, lurching down to pick up the bleeding Scott and shielded him with his indestructible body.

"Scott!"

"Ah-! I'm fine! Bullet in the shoulder!" he said through gritted teeth, his face twisted into one of excruciating pain, "Get us out of here!"

Scott stumbled in front of Logan, a hand wrapped around his shoulder, blood dripping from his elbow. Logan felt bullets pierce his back and he grunted with each one. They slowly slid out of his skin, dropping to the floor like metal flies.

"Follow me!" Wolverine jumped in front of the tumbling Scott and led the way, "I know this place!"

Soon, they emerged into a large hangar. This was Stryker's arsenal for jets, tanks, army vehicles-any shape, size, or form of transportation was in this enormous chamber.

"Jesus," Scott panted, "think…he's got…enough?"

"Take it easy, bud," Logan grabbed him by the uninjured shoulder and steered him to the side. They ducked behind the wing of a fighter jet, observing as three convoys of soldiers sprinted into the building, full strength.

"I know the way out," Logan looked to Scott, "We've just got to get the gate open before they lock it down."

"I-I know how to fly, do it with the X-Jet all the time," Scott teetered to the side, but caught himself and straightened up.

"Can you fly?"

"I'll do anything to get us out of here. Besides, if I tried to fight those soldiers, I'd just be dead weight. Don't worry about me, Logan, keep them off and I'll open the gate."

"The control panel is near the door," he whispered as the troops began to split up. Wouldn't be long before they found the hiding place, "can you make it."

"Yeah, I think so."

"Good," he looked ahead, "because we die if you don't."

"No pressure."

"See you on the other side?"

"Sure, Logan, but be careful."

Wolverine unsheathed his claws, the comforting sound of the metal emerging and the glint of light against them gave him a rush of ferocity. Time to take these guys down.

He roared like a beast and jumped from behind the wing, charging the troops with full might and claws out.

Scott admired Logan's fighting skills, his form nearly perfect and technique amazing. Those training sessions were something he never took seriously, but now in the heat of battle against his most hated enemy, Logan was unstoppable.

 _Come on, Scott, the control panel._

All three troops were focused on taking Logan down, bullets pelting him like rain. He took on five men at a time, always taking them down with one stroke. That meant he had a clear route to the control panel. He said a silent prayer, tightened a cloth around his shoulder, and gently crawled behind the jet, hiding behind the tire. Good, still clear. The hangar was huge, the panel way on the other side. A bullet would easily bite him before he made it there, but luckily Colonel Stryker was kind enough to leave them with an abundance of army jeeps just waiting to drive.

Scott spotted the keys in one of them, and he scrambled into the driver's seat, doing his best to stay silent. Logan kept battling as ferociously as ever, and Scott was relieved that he was stuck here at least with Logan. Sure, they had differences, but Wolverine was resourceful, strong, committed, and knew what he was doing. He fit the key into the ignition and turned, the engine roaring to life underneath him like a caged tiger.

"Hey! In the truck! It's the other mutant!"

Six men charged his way, guns aimed and ready to fire until Logan sprinted after them like a cheetah and jumped, taking three down at once, slicing one, cutting another, and finally tearing down the final assailant.

"Go, go, go!" Logan yelled, motioning for Scott to push it.

His foot slammed on the gas and the jeep went flying like a rocket. Gunshots blasted at his vehicle and he ducked his head, eyes barely able to see over the wheel as glass shattered around him. _Almost there, almost there!_

He hopped out of the driver's seat, falling to the floor as the world spun around him. His sweaty hand propped him up, the other wrapped in a makeshift sling to protect his shoulder, when heavy boots started to approach. They were still out of range of a bullet, but in a few seconds they'd take aim. He slid under the panel and jumped up to a set of buttons and screens with all types of commands. He scanned the aisles of buttons quickly, trying to place the correct one when it practically jumped out at him. It was a large, red button with the word "HANGAR DOOR" on it in bold letters.

He slammed it down with his fist and a great rumble made the ground shake. The enormous doors opened a crack, sweet, beautiful light filtering in. It was the first time they'd seen daylight in days and Scott actually felt himself tear up. This was it, they'd get out of here-

"DUCK!" were the only words he heard from Logan who fought on. He looked ahead just in time to see a soldier aiming, his finger about to press the trigger. Cyclops dropped to the floor as the bullet ricocheted off the metal pipe behind him.

"Scott!" Wolverine started to sprint in his direction, "PLANE!"

He whipped his head around and saw Logan was pointing at a large fighter jet near him. He was sprinting in his direction, that meant it was go-time. He lugged himself over, hanging onto a steel rail to support him from all that running, jumping, and ducking. Blood soaked the makeshift sling on his shoulder, the liquid uncomfortably seeping against his arm and into his worn shirt.

Logan had caught up to him, another fifteen soldiers at his tail. Wolverine leaped in front of Scott, protecting him as he hoisted him up to the pilot's chair.

"Logan, I'm gonna bring down the platform so you can hop on! You have to be quick!"

He thought he saw him nod, and Scott turned back to the display of controls for the jet. He switched on a few lights, clicked a few keys, typed in a few commands, and the engines started to roar. He pressed the platform button and it started to descend. Logan was slowly making his way towards it, slicing at soldiers who tried to approach. They knew guns no longer worked on him, but some lingered behind, pulling something over with a tarp covering it. That didn't look good.

Soldiers started to climb the side of the plane in an attempt to get to him in the cockpit. Scott, panicking, began to slowly roll the plane forward, inching it closer to the wide open doors to freedom. From the corner of his eye he spotted the men throwing off the tarp, revealing a huge rocket launcher.

"Logan, get on the plane!"

Scott pulled the throttle up, the plane starting to travel a little faster. It managed to tumble some of the soldiers off, but a few resilient ones clung on. Wolverine saw Scott's predicament, the soldier already reaching the glass. He sprinted as the plane started to make its way towards the doors, eager to fly into the daylight.

"Hang on! I'm coming!"

Logan took a risky leap, his strength built up in his legs and he propelled through the air, aiming for the platform. He just made it, his claws digging into the aluminum for dear life as he pulled his whole weight up, and he lay on his back, panting.

"Logan!"

The soldier climbing on top of the glass was slowly pulling a gun from his belt, ready to aim at Scott. Cyclops was pitching the plane from side to side, trying to throw him off, but the guy was like a spider monkey.

"I've got him!" Logan yelled, running to the cockpit as Cyclops closed the platform door.

"Scott, I've got to break the glass!" he yelled above the roar of the engines.

"What?! When we reach high altitude, we won't be able to breath!"

"Fly low!"

"Are you crazy!? They'll kill us!"

"We'll figure it out!"

Logan stood right below the soldier, who was fighting the wind and slowly aiming the barrel of the gun at the glass. Logan unsheathed his claws once more, happy to do so, and thrust upwards. His claws left three neat holes in the glass, but cracks sprouted from them like roots. The soldier was impaled by the three sharp, metal claws and he slunk over, his body sliding off the glass and his blood leaving a thick smear.

"We're in the clear!"

"Not yet," Scott said grimly, "behind us."

Logan tried to peer out and see what Scott meant when a female voice echoed through the cockpit.

"Missile Locked on."

"Wait, they're targeting us?" Logan turned to Scott, "their bullets will never reach us!"

"It's not a bullet, Logan, it's a missile!"

"God damn it! Fly, Scott, get this thing in the air!"

Scott could see the edge of the runway, the plane speeding towards it excitedly. He yelled as the plane shook against the turbulent wind, his hands pulling the throttle upwards. Logan was hanging onto the seat for dear life, his nails digging into the leather like it was the last thing on Earth. It very well could be.

"Hold on!" Scott felt the ground give way as the runway track came to a stop. The plane went soaring from the edge, the sun stinging Scott's sensitive eyes. The plane veered from right to left as the missile went flying under them, making contact with the ground nearby and unleashing a huge explosion. They erupted from the smoke and soared higher as the plane slowly gained control.

Cyclops was slouching over in this seat, barely able to keep his eyes open as that last adventure and blood loss left him breathless and exhausted. The world was a blur to him now, the land and clouds blurry in his swimming vision.

"Logan…" he said shakily, "take the wheel."

"Scott, we did it!" he was still celebrating, unaware of his condition yet.

"Logan-"

Scott felt his eyes close unwillingly, his fingers slipping off the wheel and his face go crashing against it. His whole body shifted to the right as the plane went swerving towards the ground.

"Scott!"

That was the last thing he heard as his eyes barely blinking eyes slid closed for a long time.


	6. Chapter 6

**Last chapter! Leave me a review, thanks!**

"Oh, shit, oh shit!" Logan yelled in shock as Scott was there one minute then down the next. They just couldn't catch a break. Barely managing to escape Stryker's facility was enough action for at least a week with hundreds of soldiers and even missiles to spice things up, but now Scott and a crashing plane? Too much. Logan never flew the X-Jet that much, usually just Jean or Scott did, but it wasn't rocket science to grab the throttle and navigate them in a straight line again. He frantically scanned the controls on the plane, glimpsing "autopilot" with a sense of relief. He didn't hesitate to click it as the plane leveled out and they were flying at a more stable rate. Stryker's facility was hidden behind them by the clouds, but he knew there would be jets following in search of the runaway mutants. The three holes in the glass he made a high pitched, sucking sound as air screamed through it, but they were flying as low as they could to avoid any danger. However, Scott did his best by sticking a few pieces of duct tape on them to keep the cabin pressurized.

"Scott? Scott, easy there, buddy," Logan unbuckled himself from the seat and gently lifted his friend's body from the wheel. He was completely done. His mutation was spent, his shoulder was bleeding profusely, he hadn't slept or eaten in days, and his exhaustion must've been killing him from all that running and hiding. The guy was going to crash sometime, and he was glad it wasn't at the facility, but Logan had no expertise in this area. He was secretly hoping Scott could tough it out until they got to the school where Jean would fix him up, but Cyclops couldn't wait that long. Logan unbuckled Scott's seatbelt and draped his good arm across his neck. He dragged his unconscious body to the cargo area of the plane where some thermal blankets and mats were stacked next to each other in case of emergency. He thought this qualified.

Logan stretched Scott's body out on the mat, wrapping him up in thick blankets cause it seemed like the right thing to do. There was a first aid kit on board and he removed Scott's soiled bandage to throw some antiseptic wipes in there and drape some gauze over it. That was about as far as his medical knowledge extended. There was no food or drinks on the plane, and even though his stomach growled like it was going to eat itself, he knew Scott was the priority. Logan ducked back into the cockpit, seating himself in the pilot's chair. He didn't know where the hell they were going, but Cyclops didn't have long.

There was a communication set on the control panel, with a dial pad to call any location. Logan silently prayed it worked and quickly typed in the school's emergency line. Almost immediately a voice answered.

"Xavier's School Emergency Line. Who is this?"

"Wolverine." It was told to use your "X-Men" name to identify yourself as a mutant, so you weren't some prank caller. On the other end of the line, there was something like a gasp, then voices yelling in the back, and after a moment a new voice spoke to it.

"Logan, are you there? It's Storm."

"Storm, great to hear your voice," he exhaled deeply, "look, I need your help. I don't know where the hell I am and Scott's in bad shape. Get me to the school."

"Logan, Logan! Slow down! Where have you two been?! We've been looking everywhere for you, search parties day and night, scouring the news and internet for some word-"

"Look, long story, Storm, but help me out! What's the coordinates of the school? I need to get Scott there quick!"

"Scott? He's not okay?" worry gripped her tone.

"Not if I can't get him to Jean," Logan sighed, "address. Now."

She rattled off a list of coordinates he quickly typed into the system, the autopilot reading the information and already adjusting the course.

"Logan, the Professor is going to be delighted to know you two are okay. Where are you? We can send help-"

"Long story, Storm," Logan dry washed his face, "it's hard to reach us now, I'm going to get us there as fast as possible. Be ready in a few hours, get a stretcher, we're coming home."

"I'll tell the Professor," she hung up the line.

"It's okay, Scott," Logan looked back at the sleeping Cyclops up to his chin in thermal blankets, "I'm gonna get us home."

"THEY DID WHAT?"

"I-I'm sorry, Colonel Stryker, the m-mutants, they stole a plane and-"

The soldier ducked as a knife flew toward his head. He yelped like a dog and stood back up on shaky feet as Stryker faced him, fuming.

"Tell. Me. Again."

"S-sir-"

"COLONEL!"

"Colonel!" he cried, "the mutant Wolverine, h-he managed to heal and he was i-indestructible. He protected the mutant Cyclops and was able to hijack a plane out from the hangar."

"I told you," Stryker's tone sounded like nails on a chalkboard, " _explicitly_ , that if those mutants got away, YOU WOULD BE HELD RESPONSIBLE."

"I know, sir, and I'm doing everything I can to get them back," the soldier shook, "recovery planes, army jeeps, radar tracking-"

"I don't care," Stryker was breathing heavily, getting in danger of a full explosion, "they are gone. Do you hear me? GONE! Do you know how long it took for me to lure them here? YEARS! This mission was successful, I had TWO MUTANTS! YOU INCOMPETENT FOOL!"  
"Sir-"

Five loud gunshots echoed in the chamber, the shots following in rapid succession. The soldier looked down as blood splattered from his uniform, and his eyes glazed over as he hit the ground.

"Find them," Stryker panted, hands on the desk, eyes boring holes into the wood, "Find them! FIND THEM!"

Hours had passed, Logan concentrating adamantly on the still horizon, ears ready for the sound of enemy jets and planes. So far, there was no disturbance, and he felt relieved at the freedom he just began to relish. A mass tangle of tension ebbed away from his tense muscles, and he just now realized how hungry and exhausted he was. The battle adrenaline was dissipating, and his corporeal needs were becoming a demand.

He wished he could grab some shut eye like Scott, but even though the plane was on auto pilot, they didn't know who or what might be coming their way. It was up to him to protect Scott like he did in the facility. Without those powerful laser beams, he'd be dead or trapped like a caged animal for experimental purposes.

Those blasts really did a number on the guy…He hoped Jean could fix it, because power like that in the wrong hands was unstoppable. The Professor would help, he always had an answer.

The navigation on auto pilot was saying they were just crossing the Atlantic, escaping Stryker's top secret facility from an island just off the coast of the Honduras. They'd reach U.S. soil in a few more hours, but the threat of Stryker's men wouldn't leave him until they touched base on the school grounds. There, he really felt safe.

Maybe if he just sat back for a little…closed his eyes for a moment.

When he opened his eyes again the sky was a deep orange, the sunset casting its glow across the horizon.

They were just an hour away from the school, and he hoped Storm would live up to her promise.

"Oh no," he turned around, "Scott!"

He leaped out of his chair to race to his side. Was he okay? Was he still breathing?

His face was deathly pale, the atmosphere grim. But he was still breathing. Logan let out a sigh of relief, looking over the bandages on his gunshot wound. They were seeping with blood, but they'd last until Jean got a look at it.

"Almost there, buddy, almost."

"Clear the landing pad!" Storm ordered, "Get me a stretcher, and someone call the Professor!"

"Storm!" Hank McCoy came bounding to her side, his blue fur itching her skin, "What's going on?"

"It's Logan and Scott," she barely contained her relieved excitement, "they're on their way!"

"On their way? How?"

"I couldn't get all the details," she kept walking, her cape billowing behind her, "but I know Scott's hurt."

"Is it bad?" Hank's heart skipped a beat.

"He's still alive, that's all I know."

Hank let out a deep breath, "I'll go let Jean know, make sure the Professor hears this too!"

He went running off down the hallways.

Storm saw two young students wheeling a stretcher by, another carrying packs of medical kits and equipment.

"Are those for Cyclops?" she asked.

They nodded and they continued walking.

 _Now, where's the Professor…._

"I see them! I see them!"

Storm went sprinting towards the cry, pushing through a huddle of students scanning the skies in search of the two missing X-Men.

"There!"

She saw someone point to her left and she craned her head to see that in the distance a black object was approaching. Slowly, the whir of the engines grew louder and she could distinctly outline the body of a plane.

"Clear the space! she yelled, pushing students back. They seemed half a mile out.

"Get out of the way! Out of the way!" A student with a telephone in their hands was squeezing past shoulders and bodies to move through the crowd.

"What is it?" she stopped the panting student.

"Ma'am, it's the Emergency Hotline! It's Wolverine!"

She grabbed the telephone out of the student's hand and held it to her ear, "Logan? Hello? Can you hear me?"

"Storm!"

"Logan, what's the problem?"

"Scott's out of commission, and I don't know how to land this thing!"

She looked up slowly, dread filling her body. Indeed, the plane wasn't slowing down.

"BACK AWAY!" she screamed at the students as yells started to fill the clearing, "BACK INSIDE THE SCHOOL!"

Students went running and screaming past her like a current and she threw the telephone to the ground. Her concentration was shaky because of the commotion around her, but these were her friends and they needed her. She felt for the wind currents in the air and her eyes glazed over an alabaster white. Storm willed the currents to her and a rush swept through the air as it obeyed. She thrust her hands in the air, towards the plane; the currents encircled the aircraft and she tried to create an air cushion under them as she maneuvered the winds to slowly pull the plane down. She couldn't identify any passengers inside yet, but her sole focus was getting the plane safely to the floor without any harm. It was nearly there, just a few hundred more feet as the whir of the turbines woke the whole countryside.

"I got you," she said under her breath, "I got you."

Touchdown. The wheels made contact with the grass and she pushed the wind currents back into the sky, her ears popping at the sudden change in atmospheric pressure.

"Logan! Scott!" she ran towards the plane, screaming at whoever was inside to lower the platform.

"Storm!"

She turned around to see Jean running her way, her lab coat sweeping behind her, "Where are they? Let me see them!"

"I-"

Slowly, a metallic groan filled the clearing and they sprinted to the back of the plane where the platform started to lower to the ground. Both women looked in anticipation, waiting to see the two missing X-Men finally return.

Standing on the edge was Logan, standing tall, supporting Scott who was leaning on him heavily.

"Scott! Logan!"

They sprinted to the two men, Jean and Storm trying to carry Scott, but Logan refusing and demanding he help him down himself. The gurney was waiting and they carried him onto the stretcher and attached it. Jean was already hovering over him, saying multiple commands and jotting down his stats. Storm hugged Logan tight, her hands wrapping around his neck as he hugged her back.

"Logan! I'm so glad to see you, you need to tell me what happened! No, first the Professor, he wants to hear-"

"Storm," he chuckled, holding a hand up, "the thing I want most in the world right now is a beer and a nap."

She smiled, "I think we can accommodate to that."

A certain telepath in a wheelchair whirred through the path that students gave him, emerging onto the scene where he saw his X-Men together once again.

"Logan, Scott," his eyes were crinkled in joy, "welcome home! We've all been so worried!"

"Professor," Logan shook his hand, "glad to be back."

His leg buckled beneath him and Storm caught him.

"Oh, dear," Xavier looked at Logan who was breathing hard and whose legs were shaking, "quickly, Storm, let's get Logan back to his bedroom, he deserves the rest."

"Come on," Storm helped him up as they filed past the students looking at them in awe.

Hank came bounding up to the Professor, "Professor! I've been looking for you! Storm told me that Logan and Scott-"

He looked at the scene before him and the new plane that sat on the front lawn.

"Oh…then I guess you already knew that."

"Hank," the Professor smiled, "please make sure that Logan is all right, then give Jean a hand with Scott if you could?"

"Absolutely, Professor," Beast nodded, but stopped, "But…I think Logan is taking care of that."

Confused, Xavier turned his chair and saw that Wolverine adamantly refused Storm's requests to get to his room, but was marching by Jean, checking on Scott. This was an unusual sight…Logan and Scott couldn't stand each other.

"I wonder what the hell happened to them?" Hank was just as shocked.

"They've survived an ordeal together," Professor looked up at Hank, "it's a strong brotherly bond that grows."

"Hmph," Beast scoffed, "I give it a day before their back at ripping each other's throats out."

Professor Xavier just laughed.

 **The End.**


End file.
